


I Don't Do Dresses

by Rookmoon



Series: One-Shot Wonderland, Hetalia Edition! [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blackmail, Dress Up, Dresses, F/M, Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I know I swore, I made this to be funny, I'll edit this shit later, Insulting Nicknames, Secrets, Swearing, Tea Party, Threats of Violence, get used to it, tomboy reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 00:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8511151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rookmoon/pseuds/Rookmoon
Summary: Reader is blackmailed into attending a fancy tea party hosted by Arthur.





	

Alfred

  
I never thought I would be invited (Read as blackmailed) to come to one of these things in my life. I sigh as I search my closet for something at least slightly appropriate to wear to a formal tea party. That's right. I got invited to a tea party. Of all the things I planned on doing in my life, it definately did not include searching my closet for a dress that I know doesn't exist.

  
Arthur, the guy who got me into this mess in the first place, like the gentelman he is (not) decided he would help me pick my clothes. He said something about me not knowing what is "proper" to wear to a tea party. Psh, like I care in the first place. All I want is my journal back.

  
I don't even write in the damned thing very often. Just when I've got a lot on my mind, like my best friend. Arthur found it on the floor of my room when he was over one time, and managed to pilfer it before I remembered that I had left it out. If only I had answered the door after I had put that stupid book away.

  
Oh, shit. Arthur had left, and pulled none other than his best frienemy Francie Pants to help pick my dress. I really hope it involves more than what he wants to see me in.  
"Mon amie, a little sheep told me you needed help wooing our dear Alfred. Is this true?"

  
I stared the swave Frenchman in the face and cut what I hope was a menacing glance at the only one that guy ever calls a sheep. Arthur. I smirked when his eyes widened a little bit. So he read it, huh? Now I'll have to help him forget it later.

  
Frenchie dissapears, and dashes back into the room with his arms full of bags. I smile at him until I realize that he brought backup. His two friends, Antomato, and Gilbitch rush in behind him ladden with more bags full of torture and uncomfortable afternoons. They both have a hard time carrying the loads their friend piled onto them. I know they're strong, but that's a fuck ton of dresses. How do they expect me to try them on?!

  
I start trying to sneak away when someone brings in a wheelbarrel full of boxes of shoes. Unfortunatelly that doesn't work. Arthur waves the blasted book in my face, and flips it over to a bookmarked page. Wait, he bookmarked it?! That little bastard is going to pay when I get my hands on him! The little shit clears his throat, and I lunge for it (his throat), hissing profanities.

  
Arthur calmly pulls a wand from fucking NOWHERE and waves it around. I can't move. That little shit! I'll rip his eyebrows off! I let him know as much, and he pulls a gag out of his pocket and threatens to use it. I decide to shut up. Who knows where that thing has been. I mean, Arthur isn't that bad when he isn't trying to get me to be a girl, but that's just low.

  
"I'll let you out of there if you behave, and cooperate, (Y/N). Otherwise, it might be time for a little story." The Brittish Bastard waves his chosen material around, and lifts his stupid spell.

  
"So you know, asshole, if looks could kill, you'd be dead right now." I snarl before submitting myself to two hours of being forced into dresses that I wouldn't be caught dead in.  
After that was over, thank God, they asked me what I wanted. I ran away, and changed into my jeans, a loose T, and a jacket. Normal clothing for normal people. I presented my prefered clothing, and the four men shook their heads. Arthur was looking at his watch. Shit, that means I have to stall. I chose to do that the only way I know how.

  
Tell bad jokes about people I know. Everyone I'm friends with knows I'm joking anyway, so as far as I know, no one cares. They don't really listen to me anyway.

  
"Francis, I want you to choose one." Arthur instructed. He tugged me out of the room while the three over excited dogs dug through the dresses that cost more than my entire existance. I was practically dragged into the hall, where I was scolded on proper attire for a party.

  
"There's no way you're getting me into a dress. Al isn't going to be wearing a tux, so why should I be uncomfortable?"

  
Arthur smirked, and jabbed his head behind me. Low and behold there was a sight I both craved and hated with my entire existance. Alfred walks out of his room and streightens his fucking full suit and tie. He waves, and walks over to the pair of us.

  
"What's up, dudes." He flashes his million dollar smile, and I'm afraid I might melt.

  
"You sure clean up nice, don't you?" I mutter. Arthur gives me his 'I told you so' look, and I sigh. "Fine, I'll wear the damn dress."

  
"Hold up a sec, Dude's gonna wear a dress?" That attractive bastard turns his smile up a thousand watts and turns it my way, and I'm sure I'll fall over if I don't get out soon.

  
"It's a one time thing. Don't get used to it, Jones."

  
"Aw, c'mon, dude. Call me Alfred," His innocent smile turns into a devious smirk, "or you could call me 'Hero' if you really want to."

  
I toss a glare over my shoulder, and make a tactical retreat back to my room where I'm safe. Hopefully.

  
Nope, those idiots are done. All the other dresses have dissappeared, and one was left in its non-plastic bag with a fucking zipper. They left the shoes by the foot of the bed and everything. Those idiots are too sweet for their own good.

  
I sigh and decide that if I'm going to do this ( Unfortonately, I have to) then I might as well get this over with before Frenchie decided to see if I need help. God knows I don't need that.

  
I unzip the bag (why did it have to have a bag?) and see what they picked. There's no way it wasn't a group effort with those three, and I see things they would deffinately like in the dress.

  
First of all, the blasted thing was red. That was something they would all agree on. It was also a little daring as far as showing skin is concerned, but I got lucky. It would still give me some coverage. There's some kind of shimmery dust on the waistline, as well as some random peice of shit fabric draped ever so elegently over the hanger. One of the boys will have to help me with it, I mean, does it go over my shoulders, or over my arms, or should I tie it so it shows my shoulder but doesn't cover my elbows? Or should I tie it around my neck? That sounds like the best option right now. (Kidding!)

  
Luckily, the thing is easy enough to put on. I try stepping into it, but that doesn't work very well. I let it fall to the floor, and step out of the dumb thing. I pick it up and find the hole my head is supposed to go through from the bottom. I toss it over my head, and try to squirm my arms into the holes. That doesn't work, but the dress refuses to come off again.

  
"Uh," I wobble over to the door, and shout past it, "Is anyone out there?"

  
"Are we needed, cherie?"

  
"I only need whatever one of you is least perverted."

  
"We may have a problem, chicka-" Antonio is cut off by cursing, and a thump.

  
"You perverted bastards!" An angry sounding Lovino yells, "What are you doing to my friend?"

A flurry of whispers follow his demand, and I know they're talking about me, but that doesn't make me any less curious.

"Fine, since none of you would help her without eye-raping her, I will do it," Lovino paused, "or I will find someone who can."

Lovino knocks on the door, and I tell him to come in. That's how my best friend and only sarcasm buddy since as long as I can remember saw me in the most embarassing state I have ever been. My face is about as red as the dress as my friend quickly gawfs at my apperance. He, to his credit, tries not to laugh. I can tell he had never thought he would see me like this. It's a special kind of humiliating to need help with a stupid dress, and to be stuck in said damned dress with my arms pinned to my side is bad enough.

His face was just as priceless. I had never seen him so surprised. I'm kind of surprised they didn't pop right out of his head. He full on flinched before he clutched his stomach, and took deep breaths. They didn't work. He ended up nearly crying, and holding his mouth shut to stop the cackling I know wants to come out.

It takes a few minutes for him to compose himself. In that time, Francis tries to come in three times, and his dumbass friends drag him away crying about how he wanted to see the fruits of his work or some dramatic shit like that.

That's enough to snap Lovino out of his silent laughter, and help me with my little (huge) problem. He seems hesitant until I tell him I've got an undershirt and spandex underneath. Once he hears that, he quits with the formalities and gets me out by tugging the straps upwards. The dress is off, and Lovino helps me get it on the right way.  
He even looks at the random cloth, then at me, and tosses the god forsaken thing off to the side.

I step into the shoes, thinking they must be easy enough. They're shoes for crying out loud. How hard could they be?

...

I think it's safe to say that I am very wrong. The shoes they picked looked simple enough, but I could hardly tell what little brown straps went over my foot, and what little straps held the stupid thing to my feet. I almost fell over the things were so tall.

He helped me strap them to my feet, and watched me try to walk around with heels. I almost fell on my face, on him, on the wall, until I sat down and didn't move.  
Lovi stormed out of the room laughing, and came back a few minutes later with a pair of tan sandles that strap to my ankle, without a five inch heel. I think he may have gotten them from that greek guy with the thing for cats.

They were simple enough, not to mention comfortable. That's about when Frenchie escaped whatever room this pals had locked him in, and the three of them chasing after him into the room was a sight. Especially when he stopped in the doorway, and the idiots ran into him full force.

After he had untangles himself from his friends, he pulls me away from the only sane person in the room in order to perform a different round of torture. He calls it 'primping'. By that, he means puting gunk in my hair, and making it look perfect (read as heavy). He also attacks my face with make-up. Something I am proud to do without, thank you very much.

After Mr. Beauty Queen deems Cinderella ready for the life changing ball, I run away as fast as my legs would carry me. Right into Arthur, who is more than ready to play match maker, and shake up my nonexistant love life.

The tea party is, apperently, ready. I'm also the last one in. I don't know when the others had time to change, but here they are, also in full suits looking better than I think I've ever seen them. 

Just my luck. The only open seat in the entire place is right next to Al, who I was planning on avoiding at any cost excepting mortal embarassment. Hell, I would be willing to endure sitting next to Francy Pants, who is currently wagging his eyebrows around in the most suggestive way he can, than sit next to just about the most attractive person in this place.

I shoot a glare his way, and slip into my seat. Alfred looks over, and complements me on the dress. I thank him, and notice the trio of idiots silently cheering like they just won the lottery. Lovino is shaking his head in their general direction.

Most of the party is me being painfully shy, along with Alfred not being obnoxious, and let me tell you, that is the most alluring thing I have ever seen. Scratch that, the most alluring thing is what happens about half way through. Alfred yawns a little, and his fucking voice shifts into this low southern drawl, and everyone stops what they're doing and gives him the widest stares. They go back to what they were doing when he looks around and wonders why it's so quiet.

Oh, wait, he's talking to me.

"-'m gettn' a bit tuckered out. Wanna get a bite to eat? This ain't doin' it for me."

I nod, and glance at Arthur, who seems a little miffed.

"Maybe we could stay a little longer."

"Ain't you uncomfortable?"

I glance away, and try to keep my face from overheating.

We end up leaving shortly after that. I had walked there, so after we change, we walk over to some burger place, and get some real food to eat.


End file.
